


Revisited

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-10
Updated: 2007-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly falls prey to the Nightmare Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revisited

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://heroes-las.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://heroes-las.livejournal.com/)**heroes_las** Round 1, Challenge 3: Molly Walker
> 
>  **Spoilers:** Takes place after 2x4 (“The Kindness of Strangers”). Spoilers for the comic “Molly’s Dream.”  
> 

“Matt! Help me! Maaaaatt!”

 

I know from the start that none of it is real. I remember going looking for the Nightmare Man, remember seeing his apartment, remember hearing Matt and Mohinder calling for me. After that, I only know I can’t wake up.

 

Being trapped here, screaming even though I have no mouth to scream, makes me think of a different nightmare. I don’t want to be here again. Please don’t take me back there. I don’t want to be here again. I don’t want—

 

\---------------------  
“Hide, Molly. Don’t come out until I get you,” Mom whispers. I look past her to where Dad is still sitting at the dining table, not moving. Mom puts her hand over my eyes. “Don’t look, honey. Go hide.” The floorboards upstairs creak, and Mom’s eyes widen in fear. “Hurry, Molly!”

 

I hide under the stairs, in the little room Dad helped me set up, with some of my toys, and furniture just my size. Mom shoves a table in front of the door, and then she runs into the kitchen. I can hear her dialing the phone: 911. “Hello? There’s someone in the house,” she says, and then my ears are filled with the sound of creaking steps. Someone is coming down the stairs.

 

I hear plastic smashing, and then my mom screams. More footsteps, and I hear the Boogeyman’s voice, deep and impossibly loud. “Where is she?”

 

The Boogeyman is looking for me. He’s come to get _me_.

 

Under the stairs it’s light, at least, but that’s almost worse. I shut my eyes, but I can still hear. I hear Mom screaming, and my little room shakes when something heavy slams into the wall and sticks there. There are more screams, and wet noises like slicing into a piece of meat. Then the screaming stops.

 

My breathing is so loud. I think the Boogeyman will find me for sure. I close my eyes and hold onto my stuffed horse. The house is old, and I can hear him moving, the floorboards squeaking as he passes from room to room, running upstairs, running down to the basement. He knows I’m here, and it’s only a matter of time before he finds me.

 

I could have looked for him, the way I’d found out I could look, but I don’t. I don’t want to look for him. I look for my parents instead.

 

My parents are gone.

 

I can’t see them when I close my eyes. I know what to do; even then I knew how to find people. I’d found Mom in the grocery store just last week, but now when I look, there is nothing to find.

 

Then I hear other voices in the house, not just one set of footsteps now, but many, and more every minute. Has the Boogeyman brought others to come and get me? If there are this many of them, they’ll find me very soon.

 

I close my eyes again, and I keep repeating to myself, “Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.” Maybe if I believe it enough, the Boogeyman won’t hurt me the way he hurt my parents.

 

That’s when I hear the screech of wood being dragged across wood, much closer than anything else I’d heard, and the door to my little room opens. I squeeze my eyes closed, sure that the Boogeyman had found me at last.

 

Instead, a voice says, “It’s okay. It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

 

That was how Matt saved me the first time.  
\---------------------------

 

This time it’s worse, maybe, or at least different. It’s not real, I tell myself. Everything I see is part of the nightmare. I know the Boogeyman is dead. I know this is all in my head. I close my eyes tight, thinking if I just don’t believe it, it won’t hurt me. If I can just stop being afraid, maybe I can get out.

 

“Matt!” I scream. “Help me! Matt!” I have no way to know if he hears me, but there’s one thing I’m sure of: he’ll come for me. He’s saw what happened; he knows where I went. All he has to do is come get me. I listen for the sound of a door opening, for the sound of Matt’s voice telling me everything’s okay.

 

“Matt! Please! Matt!” I scream. There’s no answer.  
\----------------------------


End file.
